The Trial
by VeIaRrGtOh
Summary: Ariadne is put on trial, the only member of the team captured after the Fischer Inception job. Will she take the fall and become a prisoner, or sell out her associates to win her freedom? What would they do in her shoes? The final chapter is posted!
1. The Offer

_A/N: This will be a rather short, four-chapter story. It started out as a oneshot, but I thought in the end it was too long, so I broke it up and will be posting the chapters over the next couple of days. I hope you enjoy! Reviews from you lovely readers are always appreciated._

_A big thank you to Paint Me Violent for being an excellent beta for this story!_

_I do not own Inception._

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><p><span>Part One: The Offer<span>

The room that Ariadne was locked in was unbearably plain. _That was most likely the point_, she realized. Four cinderblock walls, painted white. No windows. Ugly mismatched gray and green tiles covered the floor. Fluorescent lights overhead making the skin on the back of her hands, placed in front of her on the steel table, look a ghastly, pallid color. The air was still, stuffy, and a little bit cold - inexpensive to maintain without heat, altogether. She assumed the room was only used for the one purpose of holding criminal defendants before it was their turn in the courtroom.

She took slow, even breaths as she waited. She wished she had her chess piece totem to play with while she waited, but the bishop had been taken from her, along with anything else she had on her person when she was arrested. The bailiff would be coming soon, she realized, to lead her upstairs to the courtroom where the charges would be read and a court date set. She was not panicking, not just yet: instead, a feeling of dread had settled in the pit of her stomach and seemed content to stay there.

She heard footsteps in the corridor, and looked up as the door opened. The guard was a large black man, his arms enormous and his walk the ungainly stumble of a bodybuilder, but his face was not unkind.

"Ready to go," he said, his voice deep and assured. It was not a question, but not a command either. Just a statement. He looked encouragingly at her, and she nodded. His eyes were soft and curious. He had probably never had to escort a criminal such as her before.

Ariadne stood without a word. She had to walk. She felt out her limbs and tried to estimate her condition - was she ok to walk? Her knees were shaking, and she mentally shook herself to lock them. Her heartbeat increased exponentially, but still she did not lose herself to panic. Perhaps it was all she had been through in the past three months: corporate espionage, a near-death experience, and then the farce of attempting to fit back into a normal world that had toughened her and prevented the panic from taking over. But she could feel it, not far off, threatening to break through her careful composure at any minute.

Ariadne's walk was slow but steady as she walked down the hallway to the elevator and rode it two floors up to the main floor, the guard just a hair behind her the entire time. She did not wear handcuffs - _because the thought of me attempting to escape is laughable_, she thought bitterly. She had always been a small girl.

Her artist's mind could not help but notice the boring hallway deco: plain and white, dimly lit, just like the room she had just exited. The elevator was not much more stimulating: ugly, dirty steel. Of course, these bottom floors of the courthouse were not meant to be seen by people of a good impression. She frowned as she thought that only criminals, and the bailiff, would ever see these walls.

Ariadne and the guard exited the elevator together in silence and walked a short distance down another hallway (same as below, though it was covered in a thick green carpet) to a wooden door. The guard looked at Ariadne questioningly as he took the door handle. She only nodded again. He gave her a reassuring grimace - she could almost have called it a smile, but it was so reserved - and pulled the door open.

Ariadne of course took no notice of the many people crowded into the seating area in the back half of the courtroom. She could only look up, at the magnificent wooden rafters, arching over long, glass-paned windows. The windows let in light, but no image of outside: they had been frosted. She could only tell that it was a bright day outside. There were lights on the ceiling covered by beautiful glass domes, but their light paled in comparison to the daylight. The walls were a rich mahogany, with the wood floor just a few shades darker. The room was not exactly how Ariadne would have done it - she preferred marble over wood for a fancy interior design any day but it was breathtaking nonetheless.

She finally took in the people as she got to her seat - many more than she expected, at least seventy or eighty of them, and all were staring at her. Press in the back _- oh God, there are so many_. Her court-appointed lawyer sat next to her, looking through the papers in front of him, and did not spare her a glance. His glasses sat perched at the end of his rather long nose. He wore a black suit and a bored expression. What remained of his hair was graying and stuck up in odd, short patches on his head. She looked to her right at the prosecutor. Unlike her own lawyer, he was staring at her, and the first impression Ariadne had of his appearance was that he would fit comfortably in a southern courtroom drama from the 1960s: his skin was tanned and his face slightly ruddy, and his dark brown hair, a little long, was slicked back, coming to stop at the end of his neck. He wore a brown suit and held the sides of the unbuttoned jacket away from his slightly protruding stomach as he surveyed her. The look he gave her was hard - not the curious look of the audience, but a searching, penetrating look. She gulped and looked at her feet, turning red, as she suddenly felt the weight of the situation fall onto her.

"All rise," a bailiff called, and the floors creaked as everyone in the room rose to their feet. "The Honorable Judge Emerson McQuaid."

Ariadne stared, her heart fluttering as the judge entered and took his seat. He was a stocky, aging man, but the look he gave her as he sat stated clearly that although the physical power he had once commanded may have gone, he was still a tough-minded individual.

The floorboards creaked again as the crowd took their seats.

McQuaid spoke, his voice gruff and hoarse. "Name the suit."

The prosecutor took to his feet, buttoning his jacket as he did so. Ariadne noticed Robert Fischer was nowhere to be seen around the prosecution table.

"Your Honor," the prosecutor started, and his voice matched his persona, Ariadne noticed: not completely a Southern accent, but it was a slower drawl nonetheless. "The state of California brings against the defendant a case of kidnapping, attempted robbery, and attempted extraction through illegal use of dreamshare technology." He turned to give another hard look to Ariadne. "The state seeks a maximum penalty on all counts."

McQuaid eyed the defense table. "And does the defense have anything to add?"

Ariadne's lawyer looked up from his papers.

"No, Your Honor."

Ariadne stared at him granted, all she knew about criminal courts were from watching a few seasons of _Law & Order_, but surely there had to be something else they should have been doing? And the lawyer had never once introduced himself or given her a passing glance. She bit her lip, suddenly terrified.

"Very well," McQuaid said, giving the defense lawyer a skeptical look and getting up from his perch. "Trial date is set for one week from today, 9 a.m." He banged his gavel once and started toward the exit.

"Wait," Ariadne hissed to her lawyer, turning in her seat. "Shouldn't we be doing something? This was so quick, I-"

He finally turned to look at her, but his look was dismissive.

"There's not much to do, I'm afraid," he said, attempting a look of pity and failing miserably. "We'll have to wait and see what the jury is like."

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><p><em>At least this holding room is a bit more stimulating<em>, Ariadne thought unenthusiastically later as she sat, waiting again. The room was at least furnished - dark red wallpaper, a mahogany desk and chairs, a landline phone on the wooden table she was sitting at. _The lawyers conference room_, she realized. It was dimly lit the light from the windows, so bright earlier, was fading as the day wore on.

"We had a quick round in there earlier, didnt we?" A voice came from behind her and she started in her seat, turning around quickly to see the prosecutor strolling into the room. The door clicked shut behind him. "So quick, in fact, I don't believe we were properly introduced." He held out a hand. "Sam Lee," he said by way of introduction.

Ariadne shakily took his hand and shook it, unsure of what to make of him. He sat down across the table from her.

"If I were you," Lee said, giving her the same hard look from earlier, "I'd be pretty pleased to meet me, as I'm probably the best friend you're going to have here."

"But, I-" Ariadne started, about to suggest that her lawyer come meet them as well.

"I just thought the two of us could have a quick little chat. Personal and private," Lee spoke over her, his penetrating gaze from the courtroom back in his eyes. Ariadne felt the air leave her lungs. She knew that she shouldn't say anything to Sam Lee without her lawyer present. She could accidentally give crucial evidence or testimony that would damn her.

Lee seemed to be waiting for her to speak, right after he had interrupted her. Ariadne remained silent, but could not tear her eyes away from his. His tiny green eyes bored into her timid brown ones, and she felt an enormous pressure and claustrophobia, though of course she was still sitting in the large room.

"Nothing you say here will go back to your lawyer, unless of course you choose to tell him, and nothing you say will go back to the court - immediately. You may need to testify eventually, but that's a discussion for another day." Lee folded his arms over his rather large stomach as he spoke. His voice was normal, but seemed to hinge on anticipation. "I am, at this point, simply offering you a proposal. You may accept or reject it, though I would say it would be enormously in your favor to accept it."

Ariadne frowned. _Roundabout lawyers talk_, she thought to herself. She thought over what he had said, searching for hidden traps in his words, before she said quietly, unmoving, "What is it that you are asking me?"

Sam Lee eyed her for another moment and did not answer. When he did finally speak, he too did not move a muscle in his seat, and they were statues speaking to one another.

"I am offering you a chance at freedom," he said, his voice suddenly low. "You are currently on trial for a very serious matter, a trial which, if things go my way, would send you to prison. Penalties for armed robbery in the state of California are a minimum of ten years in prison. Armed robbery is the least of your worries. I could twist this trial in such ways that you could never understand. I could practically put you on trial for rape - unlawful and forced entry into a man's mind without his consent." Lee smiled as if actually considering it. Ariadne felt the blood leave her face.

"So. That's quite a long time for a young girl such as yourself to be in prison. A very long time indeed," drawled Lee, raising his eyebrows at her but still unmoving. Ariadne could not move out of fear: she had lost all feeling in her arms and legs.

"Which brings me to my point," Lee said sharply, louder, sitting up a little straighter in his seat and finally looking away from Ariadne. His movement allowed her temporary peace in which she took a deep breath of air and gulped.

"Mr. Fischer and I have agreed that we will drop the kidnapping and attempted robbery charges against you, leaving only the attempted extraction charge, if-" Lees eyes were back, focused on Ariadne's. "If you will provide us with the names and current whereabouts of your associates, and what it is that they wanted from Robert Fischers mind."

Ariadne blinked. _NO_.

"Wh-what?" she stammered at him.

"Come, come now, Ariadne," Lee said. "You didn't really expect that we would believe that a 22-year-old who has no known former contacts or experience with the extraction business, or even with dreamshare technology for that matter, could attempt this feat on her own?"

Ariadne could not forget the image of Cobb, leaving the baggage claim at LAX and rushing toward Miles, and the two of them hurrying off home. In her mind's eye at that moment, all she could see was the relieved and grateful look he gave all of them before hurrying off without a word. Toward his children.

_NO_.

"No, we have surmised that the entire first class cabin was involved," Lee continued, and Ariadne was snapped back to the dreadful immediate. "So we have the names on the tickets, but that's no good, as I know your comrades probably have decades worth of aliases.

"So, what I really need from you is this," he continued, taking Ariadne's stunned silence for admission. "I am going to need the name of your associates, or at least what they told you their names were, where you operated from, how your plan came together, what it is exactly you wanted from Mr. Fischer, and the current location of your associates. You give me this information, and I can give you your freedom."

All she could continue to do was stare at him in horror. _NO_. She could not do it. She could not could she? She had clammed up at his questions, but if she thought about it...

"And the extraction charge that I leave with you, well that's nothing really," Lee rushed on, as if her silence signified her worry about her pending incarceration. "The laws aren't fully organized about punishing illegal dreamshare yet, and I will be lenient with the prosecution if you are helpful to us. You may not get any jail time at all." He raised his eyebrow at her hopefully. She was silent still.

"Hmmm," he said thoughtfully. "Perhaps you'd like some time to mull this decision over. Maybe some time to help you remember all the details." He stood, straightening his jacket as he did so. He towered over her. Ariadne felt like she might vomit. "But just think about it, Ariadne," he continued, his voice low again. "What do you think they would do, if they were in your place?"

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><p><em>I hope you like the beginning! If you want to see what Ariadne decides, come back later, or I always find that selecting the Alert option below is easier :P <em>

_Reviews are welcome! If you happen to find grammatical mistakes, please let me know - fanfiction hates me and I had to change some errors manually.  
><em>

_Terra._


	2. The Decision

_A/N: Hi all! I hoped you like the first chapter, and as promised, here's the next chapter.  
><em>

_I do not own Inception._

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><p><span>Part Two: The Decision<span>

Ariadne was back in the ugly, plain waiting room. It was the morning of the first day of her trial. She could not tell exactly how long she had been confined in the local sheriff's office for: she hardly noticed the days and nights with the state she was in.

She had been fretting between worrying about her own predicament and that of her former colleagues. Lee's offer was still echoing in her mind, and try as she might to banish it from her thoughts, she could not.

She paced the small, ugly room as she wondered about the others. If they had caught her, how long would it be before they got the others? She wondered if it were possible that the others had been found already as well, and her stomach lurched in a fresh wave of worry. As most of them were seasoned criminals, they were much more likely to evade capture by the law than she, but still… maybe they had been taken as well. She had not seen them, nor heard anything about them since she had been arrested, and not since Lee's offer.

And she knew better than to say anything. She couldn't. There was no option. Was there?

She was a promising artist with her whole life ahead of her. She couldn't go to jail. She couldn't. A wave of anger flared in her at the very fact that they hadn't rescued her yet. She had half-expected them to, for a while. She knew it was silly – how could they? This wasn't a dream they could manipulate. And furthermore, why would they? The more she thought about the team she had worked the inception with, the more she realized they were nothing but a team of criminals. She had joined the operation for the wonder of the creation. They had done it for more sinister personal reasons… right?

Her mind and her heart were torn. She had thought they were – well, not quite a family, but a working family. They had spent weeks and weeks together – eating, planning, talking. And then they had spent what amounted to weeks together in the dream itself. Didn't she know them well? Didn't she know everything there was to possibly know about Cobb? And the others, the friendliness she shared with Arthur, Eames and Yusuf. And Saito – she and Cobb had gone further to save his life! Surely he must feel a debt to her?

But a part of her knew, somehow, that none of them were to be trusted. They were thieves and criminals after all. She was just a college student, a useful pawn to them. They had forgotten her as soon as the job was finished and the paycheck was safely nestled in their Swiss bank accounts. They had left LAX without a word, without a second glance at her. Well sure, that was the plan they had agreed upon, so as not to draw suspicion, but surely she deserved a handshake or a small smile.

She knew it was the cynical part of her mind crushing them, the part that longed to save herself and tell Lee everything she knew about them. She was just protecting her heart by betraying those who seemed to have betrayed her. But she also knew, deep down, that though she longed to show them the pain they had showed her, she would not betray them. She would not sell them out to Lee. How could she? The image of Cobb's children playing in the grass, and the despair in his aged face when he longed to go to them, would never leave her dreams or memories. He was with them now, and she could not bear to take him from them again. And the others – well, there was money at the end of the job, but somehow she knew that they had also done it for Cobb, to see him happy.

And there was a further bond between them – inception. They had done it. _They_. Cobb, Eames, Arthur, Yusuf, Saito and Ariadne shared that bond. They had created, and destroyed, and broken all the rules. But they had done it together.

So with these thoughts racing through her mind, Ariadne made her decision just as the bailiff was opening the door, letting Sam Lee into the room. She faced him wordlessly, but her face betrayed no hint of fear.

"Miss Ariadne," he said pleasantly. He was dressed in another fine suit today, though it was gray. She had also dressed for court – gray skirt and suit jacket. Plain and respectable.

"I hope you're fairing well," Lee said, eyeing his surroundings – the ugly room had struck him as well in its cruelty. "I just came to see if you had thought any further about the offer I made you."

He opened his mouth to say more, expecting her to remain in fearful silence again, presumably. But Ariadne cut him off.

"I have, Mr. Lee," she said quietly, realizing that though she had put on a brave face, her knees were trembling at the prospect of what she was about to say. "I have thought over your offer very carefully for the past week, and my answer is unfortunately no. I cannot help you."

Lee seemed struck. "That sounds very noble of you," he began, frowning around his words. "But I don't think you quite understand the consequences of your actions here. I assume you were an accomplice in that job, not the mastermind. The rest of your team seems content to allow you to go to jail while they get away scot free. You have never been to jail, Ariadne, would you really like me to explain how it is to you?"

Ariadne gulped, the original fear he had instilled in her came rushing back. He was right, he was so right, but she could not sell them out, that team that had been like her family, the team that sent Cobb back to his family.

"I can't-" she stammered at him, but Lee advanced toward her, looking angry now.

"Don't you understand, you stupid girl, I want them, I need them!" his face betrayed a look of disgust, but his voice was still at a normal volume. "I don't care if I have to send you to prison for the rest of your life, I will if I have to, but I am offering you freedom in exchange for such a simple task-"

"I won't," and though there were tears forming in the corner of her eyes now, her voice was stronger. "I will not tell you anything." She paused. "I don't know anything. I couldn't tell you if I knew." She realized suddenly that playing dumb was her best way out. "I didn't attempt anything you are charging me with, and I never spoke to any of the other passengers in the first class cabin of that flight."

She knew this was to be her path. Deny, deny everything. That was all she could do to protect them. And, she realized, she did want to protect them. Even if they had technically left her to be caught by the authorities, they had given her dreamshare – a lifetime of memories and building and unbelievable views. It was more than she could have ever hoped for in a year of studying in Paris. If this was the only way she could thank them, by protecting them now, so be it.

Lee scaled back, seeming to realize he was too close to her, and again bestowed upon her his penetrating stare. He gazed deep into her eyes for what seemed like minutes, breathing heavily with contempt, before seeming to give up and turning away.

"It makes no difference to me in the end," he said as he exited the room. "I still get to send you to prison."

By the time Lee's the sound of Lee's footsteps faded down the hall, Ariadne let the tears come.

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><p><em>Next, see Ariadne sweat under the pressure of the court prosecution! Same time, same channel ;)<em>

_Thanks to all who read and reviewed, it's much appreciated!_

_Terra_


	3. The Prosecution

_A/N: Well this is the third chapter of this short story. I hope you enjoy, and as always, reviews are much appreciated!_

_I do not own Inception._

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><p><span>Part Three: The Prosecution<span>

Half an hour after she had turned down Lee's offer, she was escorted into the courtroom. The judge entered. There were just as many people here as before. She still looked around at the beautiful architecture, lamenting that it was probably the most beautiful building she would see in a while. Thoughts such as these constantly pushed her toward the edge, and though she was visibly shaking, she would not cry.

Everything seemed to be moving so quickly. Ariadne was the first on the stand, called by the prosecution. And there was still no sign of Robert Fischer. She had thought he would be the first to testify against her. But evidently he could not be bothered to go to court.

She took the stand, her legs still shaking beneath her. She very nearly collapsed on the chair. Her teeth were chattering, her hands shaking – all the signs of a guilty conscience, or in this case, a basket case who was killing herself inside for not knowing how to say no to something that was wrong. Addictive, illegal, and wrong. She wished she could go back, to the day she had stormed out of the workshop after Mal had killed her in the dream, and stopped herself from ever returning. But then she would never have created entire buildings, cities, mountainsides. It had happened, she had to remind herself. It had happened and there was no going back, only pressing onward.

Lee was advancing toward her, a determined look on his face. She gulped and steadied herself, attempting a mask of calm.

"Miss Ariadne, do you know why you have been summoned here to court today?" He asked sharply, brisk and impatient. The charm from one week ago, when he asked her to sell out the others, was gone.

She thought for a moment, and quickly looked at her attorney. He was engrossed in his notes, and seemed not to even know that the prosecution had started. _A lot of help from him, then_, she thought. _I'm on my own_. Lee was sneering as if he knew what she was thinking, and wanted to back her into a corner with the very knowledge of her hopelessness. She turned to look at him.

"No," she said evenly. "No I don't."

"You are here," Lee said curtly, "Because you are suspected of kidnapping Mr. Robert Fischer, head of Fischer-Morrow Industries, and forcing him to participate in a dreamshare session in which you extracted information from him. You and your associates forced your way into Mr. Fischer's mind, invaded his privacy rights as a citizen – no, as a human! – and used the information there to sell to the highest bidder.

"Your Honor, members of the jury," Lee turned toward the rest of the court, as if to explain further.

"This young woman may seem like an innocent, but let me assure you: she has used her noteworthy skills in architecture and planning to assist in a covert operation in which six individuals, including the witness herself, forced their way into this man's mind without his allowance, to steal from him."

Lee turned to sneer at Ariadne. "Now, Miss Ariadne has sworn to me previously that she never knew the other members of the first class cabin in which the extraction was performed, while on a ten-hour flight from Sydney, Australia, to hear in Los Angeles. I ask, once again, Miss Ariadne. Do you claim to know, or have ever met at all, any of the other passengers from that first class cabin?"

_NO_.

"No," Ariadne said, her voice hollow and defeated. "I never knew any of them. I barely even looked at them during the flight."

Lee accepted her statement and turned abruptly to the prosecution table. Another lawyer sitting there handed Lee a manila envelope. He opened it and looked through its contents. He glanced at Ariadne and spoke casually.

"So then you say you never knew, or even briefly met, a Mr. Dominic Cobb of Los Angeles, or a Mr. Arthur-"

Ariadne felt as if the walls had fallen in on top of her and crushed her. He had played her. Lee had played her, and she was going to jail, and he knew about the others, and her sacrifice was for nothing-

"What! She gasped. "How did you- I mean, no, no I don't know any of them!" She knew her voice was bordering on hysterics now, and would not go unnoticed by the jury.

"So, you are prepared to go to jail for the rest of your life before you admit to knowing and working with these men?" Lee was giving her that penetrating stare in between looking at the sheets in his hands. "A Kenyan drug dealer by the name of-"

Her lawyer gave a faint "Objection," but it went unnoticed by the judge, who was staring down at her. The courtroom had faint whispers circling throughout it.

"No!" Ariadne could feel the tears springing back to her eyes, and knew she would lose it if he kept taunting her in this way. She wondered – he knew who the team members were, had they been arrested already? Or were they able to get away? "I don't know any of them, I told you already-"

"Tell me!" Lee demanded, and though he was still all Southern charm to the members of the jury, he seemed suddenly very menacing to Ariadne as he strode up to the stand. She shrunk back in her seat as far as she could go, praying she would just slide through the wood, and keep falling far away from this nightmare.

"Tell me," Lee spoke again. "I want you to tell me how you and these men went into Robert Fischer's mind, and what it was that you stole from him."

"Nothing!" Ariadne was crying now in earnest, she could not hold it back. The trembling was worse than ever. There was a part of her that could still not believe she was in court, on trial, for what they had done in Robert Fischer's mind. But there was a much larger part of her who heard "guilty!" shouted through her head and saw a lifetime prison sentence ahead. "There was nothing, I don't know what you are talking about-"

"Tell us," Lee began again, but he was interrupted by a familiar voice from the back of the court.

"Enough," the voice said wearily.

Lee turned to face the voice, glaring. Ariadne felt her mouth fall open in shock as she watched Arthur, Arthur in his typical three-piece suit and slicked back hair, but wearing a face of combined exasperation and concern, rise from the back of the courtroom and make his way to the front. Lee watched him come, saying nothing.

"Time's up," he said to Lee simply.

Ariadne fell.


	4. The Test

_A/N: Well here it is! The big reveal. I really hope you all have enjoyed this story. For those waiting out this random hurricane… stay safe and read more fanfiction!_

_Thanks again to Paint Me Violent for beta-ing the story, and to everyone who reviewed with speculations and encouragement – I really appreciate it! This was so much fun to write, that I will probably be doing more soon… so come back again! _

_I do not own Inception._

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><p><span>Part Four: The Test<span>

Ariadne opened her eyes and saw the typical clone copy popcorn ceiling of a three-star hotel. The multi-colored glitter spots twinkled back at her. She heard the floor creak at the foot of the bed as someone rose to disconnect himself from the PASIV device, which lay gleaming cruelly on a coffee table.

She sat up, alone on the bed. The man who had gotten up was already looping up the wire that had linked his arm to the device. The other man was sitting up, but still on the floor, and did not move to disconnect the needle from his arm. Instead he watched her carefully, waiting for her to say something.

Ariadne could only stare for a few moments, stunned, gathering her surroundings. She was in a hotel. Dreaming? Awake? Limbo? She jerked her hand toward her pocket, already feeling the weight of her totem inside it. The sudden movement caused the needle which had pierced her forearm to twist, and she hissed in pain as it tugged on her skin and drew a couple small drops of blood.

"Careful," Arthur warned, approaching and attempting to help pull the needle gently from her arm. "Let me get it-"

She snarled at him, almost like an animal, and he backed away. Eames watched her movements with thoughtful eyes, not moving to get up from where he sat on the floor.

She turned to the bedside table next to the bed, and with one sweep of her arm, pushed the phone and lamp that adorned the wood top to the floor. The crash seemed louder in the silence. She pulled the totem out of her pocket with her back to the others, and tipped it over on the now-bare table. It fell in a familiar arc, the way she had built it to. She straightened it and tipped it again for good measure. The same fall to the same side. Reality then. Reality. Which meant what she had experienced was a dream – how much was a dream?

Ariadne turned to face them. She was breathing heavily, and could have shouted and screamed, but more than anything she wanted to be assured of reality before understanding their cruel trick. Arthur looked pained at the rage on her face, and Eames blinked but looked serenely back at her.

"Explain." It was a demand, brief and controlled. Quiet yet powerful.

Arthur looked at Eames reproachfully.

The Englishman pushed himself up from the floor and walked to sit on the chair near the door to the living room suite, facing her. The bedroom was large enough to fit Eames' and Arthur's sleeping figures on the floor, and the living room beyond looked even larger. She could see the light on in the white bathroom just behind Arthur. Eames opened his mouth to speak.

"You're quite remarkable, you know Ariadne," he said evenly. "Really. You're the best architect I've ever seen, and a very adept dreamer, but evidently not a very accomplished liar. You gave it a good effort though." He grinned at her. Her stomach boiled with rage at him, but she knew he wouldn't care if she shouted at him. He would think it entertaining. She waited for him to continue.

"Look, here's the deal. I was approached to do an extraction job. Simple enough, just got to fix up a few odds and ends," Eames said. "I can stomach working a job with Arthur, but I knew, after what I saw you do with Fischer, that I would never be happy with any other architect but you working a job."

Ariadne could think of hundreds of things to say, but the question that left her mouth was, "You do extractions?"

Eames snorted. "Yes. How else do you think I make a living? Forgery is my specialty, but I'm pretty damn good at whatever someone needs me to do in a subconscious." He continued. "Anyway, I wanted to know if I could trust you."

He stopped. Ariadne expected him to go on, but he did not.

"And?" she whispered angrily. "And? Why would you need to know if you could trust me?"

"Because, dearest, we worked a very important and ground-breaking job together," he said condescendingly. "It was your first job, as I am aware, and you don't really have any dreamshare references, besides us." He gestured to himself, then Arthur. "You seemed trustworthy enough on the inception job, but I needed to know if you could be trusted with that secret, and savvy enough to work again with me, and learn to keep your mouth shut about facts that could burn someone. Don't take it too personally," he added, a bit of sympathy coming to his eyes. "Testing someone's loyalties by putting them through the figurative dream ringer is a common practice among business partners who want to be sure that they can trust someone they work with to have their back. Trust me when I say you got the easy test. A court case? Please. Arthur here got beaten to a pulp in a dream to test his loyalty once."

Arthur glared at Eames, and Ariadne felt her stomach turn cold. _I was right, _she thought sadly_. Thieves, and nothing more_.

Eames seemed able to read her thoughts.

"Look, Ariadne," he said, and his voice was gentler, less matter-of-fact. "I'm sorry for what we put you through. I know it was hard. And I know you feel like you may not be able to trust us right now-"

Ariadne gave a loud, dismissive snort. "What I want to know," she said. "Is what kind of hotel staff allows two men to carry in an unconscious girl and check into a hotel room. Where'd you find me? And how did I get here?"

"Look, I know you want to know all the details, and I promise we'll tell you," Eames said, looking apologetic. "But right now I just want you to know, I'm sorry you had to go through this, but look at you now! In the face of all that opposition, you refused to sell us out! It would have been so easy, you had so many chances. I made it easy, believe me-"

"You were Lee?" Ariadne hissed angrily at him, realizing his impeccable forgery skills would have made him unrecognizable. "You were that monster?"

"Hey now," Eames said, but he knew he was getting nowhere. He looked hopelessly at Arthur for help, but the point man continued to glare stoically at him. Ariadne was confused. _I need space_, she thought. Even though she wanted to hear the rest of the truth, she started to plan her means of escape from this situation.

"Look, Ariadne," Eames said, and his voice was pleading now. "I'm telling you the truth – it's like a rite of passage. Everybody who works in extraction and dreamshare has to do it. How else do you think I learned to trust people like Cobb? We have our own honor code, not as solid as Her Majesty's Navy, but we do our best." He grinned weakly. Ariadne glared back. "And you have shown that you stick to your guns. You didn't betray us, and for that I'm grateful. I know now that if we were ever compromised in work in the future, you'd be a reliable partner."

He stopped, seeming at a loss of what to say to make Ariadne not angry at them. A sort of savage pleasure at his discomfort brightened Ariadne's spirits. Eames looked at Arthur and seemed to have an idea.

"And Arthur, here, he was totally against it," Eames said hopefully. "I knew we would have to, just to be certain, but he didn't want to put you through that for your sake."

Ariadne looked at Arthur and their eyes met. She glared at him, but he looked evenly back. His eyes held equal parts sympathy, contrition and a challenge – _get over it and join the team_.

"I'm not as wary, of course," Eames continued. "I knew you could take it-"

"Just stop," Ariadne commanded. "Stop." She breathed, in and out, in the silence that followed.

"I'm leaving," she announced. "Don't try to stop me. I don't give a damn about your stupid rite of initiation, but you had no right to force me under without my consent." Her heart sunk slightly as she realized that was what she had done to Fischer – the crime she had been charged with in the dream. But Eames and Arthur had crossed the line. She hadn't gone into Fischer's mind to torment him just to see what he would do at his breaking point.

"I would never – ever – betray either of you for what we've done," Ariadne said as she grabbed her purse and coat from where they lay on the floor next to the bed. "I could have told you that if you simply asked me. I don't want to speak to either of you. Don't contact me. That was horrendous, and I-" She was angry now as she stormed past them for the door. "I can't believe you would betray my trust like that."

She looked back at them, Eames, frustrated, and Arthur, real pain at her words etched across the face that was normally kept so composed. She felt her heart twitch as she took in their disappointed faces.

She turned away from them and grabbed the door handle.

"Ariadne." It was Arthur's voice that spoke again out of the silence. She paused. His voice was tired, pained, and sorry. She waited, but he said nothing else. Instead Eames spoke quietly.

"If you're interested," he said slowly. "The job is in the Colorado Rockies. Simple enough, I just need a team of three. Some millionaire who wants to know if his wife is sleeping around. Not difficult, and you'd get to make some incredible mountains… You know how to reach us…. Good luck," was the last Ariadne heard as she opened the door and walked out, down the hallway.

She was hurt, and it would take time, a lot of time, if she were ever to forgive them. But already, as she entered the elevator and jammed the button for the lobby, she was recalling the vividness of the dream, one hand pressed to her head to remember, the other in her pocket, clenched around her totem. She remembered faintly that in the dream she had wished she had stopped herself from going back to the warehouse in Paris that day, to join the team for the inception job and learn about dream architecture with Arthur. She wished she had that same willpower now, to tell herself she would not go back to see them again, to dream again.

But she knew she would go back eventually. In time.


End file.
